Blood, Love, and Promises
by WBAD
Summary: He was dead as far as he was concerned, but she brought him back to life. She was desolate and neglected, but in his eyes, she was his most treasured miracle. Theirs is a connection more desirable than blood; as all-powerful as love; held together with an everlasting promise. [17th Century-esque Vampire AU setting]
1. Prologue: The Birth

**The Birth**

It was funny how men sought after immortality. It drove them to insanity, and often, they did unspeakable acts just to attain it. Just watching them very nearly drove _him _to fury. Because if these men knew what _immortality _was _truly _like, would they seek it with so much fervor?

If they knew immortality was a burden and a _wretched _curse, would they _lust _after it like slobbering animals? If they knew the _steep _price for such a life, would they still want it?

He had been like them in the beginning; not _hungering _for immortality, per se. But he was after something too… Something he _wanted _so much that the wish surpassed even his own demise.

He was only after vengeance, and even when was murdered in cold blood by those whom he loved, his soul couldn't find peace — couldn't rest. When he had acquired the dark contract that insured him eternal life in this wretched world, he understood that there was no turning back — no room for regret to settle.

The sudden thirst that overcame _him _in his awakening into immortality had been sated in a three days' worth of feasting. The living inhabitants of the castle he had once called home fell at his hands one by one; embracing the death that _he _had brought. It was his revenge for his mother, whose life was cut short by the King's innumerable wives. It was the retribution for sweet Nunnally's untimely death at their unforgiving hands.

Watching them all cower in terror and spiral into madness after having watched him consume the blood of a living being was _justice _for burying _him _alive.

It had been _their _doing… It was _their _mistake.

The sickly Prince they had deemed worthless; the feeble boy they had denied of the right to _truly _live had _laughed _at them then. Because in that time around, _he _was to be feared, and rightfully so.

When the grand royal family ceased to exist, his appetite only grew. Eventually, he deviated away from the hold of the castle that had become his unconventional prison, and into the town where living breathing human beings lived blissfully unaware of the monster that came stalking through the streets in the dead of night.

Centuries of feeding off of the living like a leech. Generations of blood, terror, and death for the residents of the small town unfortunate enough to be situated at the foot of his cursed mountain. It had been _glorious _at first. But eventually, as he grew older and older, his own existence began to mean less and less…

The longer he lived, the more he realized how _pitiful _he was. What a poor excuse for such a handsome yet wretched creature.

So remarkable and dangerously enthralling on the outside… but rotted and falling apart to his very core. His was a soul whose eternal destiny was damnation — by the punishment of living on and on in isolation or by the after life's blazing flames, it didn't really matter.

He was just a walking corpse, after all — no matter how deceivingly beautiful his face was.

But that changed when he found _her_… when her existence and her bright light slowly filtered into his life, just like the piercing rays of the morning sun cutting through the thick canopy of trees. He was _drawn _to her — like a moth to an irresistible flame. But wasn't that only natural?

The darkness could get so thick and incredibly lonely. So, finding a light in the middle of it all was refreshing and comforting…

He had secretly watched over her as she developed into a lovely young lady. And though his sudden feelings and obsession for her were a tad too sudden, even _he _was powerless to stop the powerful emotion that gripped his unmoving heart. It had been so long ago that he almost couldn't remember what the strange emotion was. Because it was deeper than obsession. It was more powerful than blood lust. And it was more desirable than blood itself.

And so, for the first time in eight centuries, his unmoving heart felt a phantom beat again. For _once _in a long _monotonous _existence, he resigned himself to the role of, not a Prince of Death, but a love-stricken lad…

* * *

**A/N: My explanation. 6 words: Vampire Lelouch is hot as balls.**

**That and this was a long-forgotten drabble I wrote probably a year ago. And tbh, I don't know where I'm going with this. So, let's say this little side project is a way for me to let off some steam that is unrelated to my two other multi-chapter stories here.**


	2. 1: The Beaten and the Damned

**A/N: I'd like to give a big thank you to the people who have read the Prologue and faved and followed because of it. Also, thank you to the wonderful people who left their thoughts in the form of reviews.**

**My guest reviewer, Lelouch von Einzbern, Saki-Rose Chan, Celline The Sleeping Beauty, Meemee, Artorius Divinus, MrLibrocubicularist, and SomebodyLost.**

**Also, a WARNING.**

**Trigger warning for attempted sexual assault; and graphic violence.**

**As always, criticisms, questions, and comments are very welcome. I'll answer curious questions as long as it doesn't spoil ze plot.**

**Til next chapter ;)**

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**Chapter 1: The Beaten and the Damned**

Alley after alley blurred together in her flurry of movement; naught but adrenaline coursing through her veins, she hastily side-stepped someone's empty stall that was closed for the night. She'd lost her footwear _ages _ago, but she didn't care. All that mattered to her was losing _them_.

_Them _with their crazed and drunken gazes; their beady eyes twinkling in the dim light of the local tavern. That had been enough to tell her to _run_, and run _fast _— especially when the intentions of the leering patrons were clear.

Some part of her wondered why the innkeeper never bothered to stop the men, but the more rational side of her was more in favor of escaping and finding someplace secure to hide for the night and effectively _lose _them. She'd worry about what to do with the situation in the morning — when they won't be so bold to make their move in broad daylight

So she ran and ran and ran, bare feet pounding against the cobblestones, the cold evening winds slapping her face, her chest heaving uncontrollably as they screamed for air — for relief.

But she couldn't stop… Not now… Not when she had seen a glimpse of their shadow and heard their mocking laughter fleetingly.

She barely registered the pain that shot through her ankles as she hurtled after where the town kept most of the food stock. It was going to be locked, but perhaps Lady Luck would be kind enough to provide a crate she could squeeze herself into and hide, and eventually spend the night. Slowing down to a jog, her eyes darted wildly, sweeping the area for a place to hide.

The longer she stayed put and caught her breath, the louder their collective voices and footsteps came. And for the first time since night had fallen, she was perfectly aware of how loud her breathing was and how they would find her, seize her, and do all manner of unspeakable things to her. Her body could barely even manage a proper _shudder_; she was so wound and exhausted from the sudden exertion.

But it was either keep running or fall prey to their whims…

And she knew she didn't want the latter.

She caught the flicker of a moving torch in her peripheral vision, and one of them exclaimed triumphantly that they'd "found the bitch."

The barbaric sound of their laughter was more than enough to spur her on, and she cursed herself for lingering far too much in one place in search of a nook and cranny to hide in. Legs full of lead, she kept running; all too hyper-aware of how _badly _her side ached and her head pounded. The blood that rushed in her ears didn't help either, and panic was slowly starting to grip her and crush her resolve.

She barely felt the tears that forced their way down her cheeks; deaf to her own voice as it strained with cries for salvation she knew wouldn't come; suddenly too numb to properly register the rough hands that closed around her arms and dragged her backwards into a wall of flesh and hard muscle.

They couldn't take her… They shouldn't… Her own life was all she had. So, _why_? Why did Fate have to curse the lives that held less than nothing?

Subconsciously struggling against their hold, she screamed and cursed and spat, limbs flailing from seedy grasps and legs kicking against the men that struggled to part them. She heard one of them cuss terribly, her wild strikes having hit home. But it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough, because they were _still _dragging her!

Was this how her life was going to end? What a wretched existence her life had amounted to! Living in a town isolated from the rest of the world, terrorized by a bloodthirsty monster, and judgmental eyes following her every move — silently accusing her of wickedness she hadn't committed.

From the moment she had escaped that tavern to run from the men's malicious intentions, she knew she was already taking a risk. Either she would fall prey to this nocturnal monster that everyone spoke about, or she'd suffer at the hands of her pursuers. And given the choice, she would have preferred the latter, because at least then death would come quick.

But _this_… No one _deserved this_!

Sobbing uncontrollably as they pressed her face to sifting dirt, she could only hear them laugh. She wanted to fight. _Gods _she wanted to, but her body was yet another traitor. And the poor girl was left to mourn over her miserable life as hands secured a hold around her neck, shoulders, back, and her arms. Another was roughly and clumsily undoing her knickers while she could feel yet another pair parting her legs unceremoniously.

She screamed her frustration into the earth, soil and blood leaving a disgusting aftertaste in her mouth.

"Ever been f**ked in the arse, little girl?" Someone's foul breath hissed in her ear, and she writhed underneath him, trying to get free when she felt one of their hands on her bottom.

Screaming her resentment and her refusal, she thrashed and moved against their hold as much as possible, fully determined to _not _make it easy for them.

But as suddenly as the assault began, it just… stopped.

The whole agonizing ordeal culminated in the sound of whimpering and stuttering men. Lying prostrate on the hard ground, she refused to move and only managed to curl in on herself — trying to be as small as possible.

She was only all too aware of the overpowering miasma that hung in the night air. Summer nights were cool, but even she, in her half-nakedness could feel just how low the temperature had suddenly dropped. Every hair on her body stood on end, and she squeezed her eyes shut — praying to whoever was listening to spare her life, and she would do _anything_. The sudden silence that filled the air was disturbing; for even the crows and the wind seemed to still. In reverence or utmost fear of the unknown, she didn't know.

Still refusing to move, she could only listen as her assailants began to plead — to whom, she didn't really know. But their fear bled through their voices and it was palpable, and some small part of her relished in the sound of them dropping to their knees in supplication.

"M-My Lord. Please— Please, heavens above, please."

One of the men put his hands together in mockery of a prayer. Glancing at his companions who were all frozen in fear, and at the girl who lay still on the cold unforgiving ground.

Truth be told, he hadn't known what he'd been thinking or why they had decided to pursue her and take her against her will. But wasn't that what you did to temptresses? Wasn't it what witches deserved?

The guilty said as much to his stoic judge. But when he didn't receive a reply, he could only fall to his knees and begin to cry for mercy.

"Have mercy, m'lord! We won't touch her again, aye?"

Collective murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, and as one, they all stared into the eyes of every human being's worst nightmare. Eyes glowing an ominous red, the intruder stepped closer. The pallid skin glistened in the moonlight as that predatory gaze traveled from one man to the other, assessing each terrorized face with sadistic relish.

"Mercy, you say?"

The creature spoke at last, and one man was brave enough to nod vigorously and prod the girl with the toe of his shoes. He didn't miss the way the creature's unnerving eyes followed his movements.

"You can have her, m'lord. She's all yers."

A cruel smirk parted the creature's pale lips, lifting a deceptively human hand to his face as he made a show of inspecting his long fingernails.

"She _is _mine. And that is why you had no right to even so much as _breathe _in her direction."

From her place on the ground, she curled up tighter against herself, willing her body to disappear. But the intruder's sudden declaration sent her human heart racing. What did _it _mean?

The group of men glanced at one another before they all professed that they hadn't known.

"We swear we didn't know m'lord."

The creature only nodded, feigning understanding. "That is true."

One of the men steeled himself rather forcibly when the creature stepped into his line of vision and held his chin up with a single finger. Eyes still hazy from the alcohol, his wet lips trembled as the pupils dilated and darted every which way, so fraught with nerves. The touch was _so _cold — as chilly as a body that lacked the vigor of life.

"But your ignorance is not an excuse for your crime, is it now?"

The assailant turned victim barely had time to cry out, and the rest of the group watched on in horror with muffled screams as the monster nonchalantly crushed the man's head as if it were no more than overly ripe fruit. The shattered remnants of a human skull littered the ground. Blood and brain matter splattered the soil and coated what was left of the headless body as it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

The men cursed, the others had fled, and one or two of them unintentionally shat themselves.

The strange noises and the smells compelled her to look, and though she prided herself most times for possessing a strong stomach, she really wished she hadn't satisfied her curiosity then. She still refused to move out of fear, but the sight of a dead and bleeding body a couple of feet away was telling enough to what had transpired. The six other men who had attempted to violate her had run, but her strange savior got a hold of one before he could flee.

Even from her post on the cold ground, she could see and smell the blood that clung to the creature's hand; could still hear his deceptively silky voice as he spoke his next words.

"I suppose I should be grateful. Thanks to you and your foolish friends, I have my meals spread out in the months to come."

The cruel smile that bared the creature's fangs made the remaining man shiver and shift uncomfortably.

"Take my words to heart. Death will not claim you unless it is by my hand. And for what you have done, you do not deserve mercy." At that last word, a blood soaked finger pointed at the corpse lying on the ground. "Tell the others. Make the best out of what's left of your pathetic lives."

She watched as the creature shoved the last man away and the latter scrambled to his feet and wisely made himself scarce. And while she was relieved that she was spared from being used in ways that would traumatize her, her addled mind was beginning to stir again.

What should she do? If she pretended to be dead, would he just leave?

She was grateful to him, whoever and _whatever _he was, but she was still afraid. Because a single man who could unblinkingly threaten the lives of seven well-built others was a force you shouldn't cross paths with. In any case, she already had an inkling of who and _what _he actually was. She'd never given credit to the rumors that spread around the village until _now; _now, when the very proof of that so-called myth was standing a few ways away from her.

"I mean you no harm." Came the quiet murmur followed by a very cold hand — surprisingly — gently coaxing her to sit up.

Trembling from nerves, exhaustion, and the chill, she immediately righted her clothing and instinctively freed herself from his touch — not that he was gripping her arm anyway. Bringing her knees to her chest, she watched with bated breath as he settled for kneeling down at least three feet away from her; watching her closely with striking eyes of brilliant amethyst.

Weren't they red moments ago?

A glance at his other hand revealed that the blood of one of her assailants was still there. It coated the entirety of his hand and stained the long sleeve of his lavish coat, reminding her that what had just happened on this fateful night wasn't a nightmare.

What was she supposed to say to him?

"Go home." He spoke quietly, rising to his feet as he turned his back on her.

Shaking and wavering slightly, she still managed to stand up on wobbly knees and scraped legs. She took a few moments to gather her composure, and she was opening her mouth to thank him, but he was gone…

Just disappeared without a trace, taking the atmosphere of death and terror with him. The only sign of his presence was the morbidly abused corpse of one of the men who had tried to—

Her own retching filled her ears as vomit splattered the stone and even splashed on her feet. Doubled over, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her stomach to settle. But even when her insides quieted down enough for her to take shaky albeit clean breaths, her heart wouldn't stop racing.

It was more than enough for one night, and though she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her humble bed made of straw, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret that overcame her. Because despite his methods and his horrifying brutality, there was no changing the fact that he saved her.

She didn't even get to thank him…


	3. 2: Between Fear and Gratitude

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read, faved, and followed this story so far — even if it's not as regularly updated as my other one. Also, huge thank you shout out to my Guest reviewer, Euryphaessa Gray, Saki-Rose Chan, SomebodyLost, and arga101 for leaving their thoughts on Chapter 1 in the reviews section.**

**I love writing this fic. I honestly do. But the reason why the updates for this one aren't coming regularly is because I'm pretty slow at writing this. I bet most of you know how fickle epiphany and inspiration can be. And that's the case for this one. Rest assured, I'll always be in the process of writing it, and I'll update as soon as it's ready.**

**And who knows, maybe when **_**One Day at a Time **_**is finished, I might be more capable of writing this faster.**

**So, until next chapter… :)**

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**Chapter 2: Between Fear and Gratitude**

Witch, they called her…

What had the poor girl ever done to deserve such resentment?

It was easy to spot her, even if she _was _wrapped in a worn cloak. The tiniest peek of unusually green hair would give her away. But it's as if no one's paying attention to her today. And that was good, wasn't it?

Eighteen years of living in Augsburg clued Kallen in on how cruel the townspeople could be when you were marked as suspicious. To be fair, the redhead had her own fair share of doubts about Cera's _true _identity, but that had dissipated over the years as she had come to realize that the girl was harmless… and ridiculed for her outer appearance — more often than not.

She watched closely as the girl stopped a few feet away from the gathering crowd near the middle of the town square (where the sheriff and the mayor put together mottled pieces of wood to pass off as a wooden dais). And long ago, Kallen would have been one of the onlookers, but experience taught her that it wasn't going to be anymore bizarre than the gruesome rumors and stories flying about their town for years — generations even. Her time was better spent lugging the firewood her brother had painstakingly chopped at the mouth of the woods for their regular clients.

Besides, the "town meeting" was nothing more than a formality — a confirmation of what everybody already knew based off of the gossip that was quick to spread in their humble town at the foot of the mountain.

The monster had struck again, they claimed. Someone or other found a headless body lying in the section of the town where they kept the food rations for hard times like long Winters. There was talk of burning the corpse at the foot of the mountains along with the unclean food today. A couple of men also raved about seeing the monster who had brutally killed the victim. It crushed their friend's head, they said. Ground it into dust like it was nothing more than eroding stone.

And there went any shred of security the town had had for about a month and a half…

Kallen had never seen this monster. And in the beginning, she had been one of the sensible few who denied its existence. But when you live in Augsburg for more than a year, one can already attest to the validity of the residents' claims — no matter how outlandish or ridiculous it seemed.

Because there _was _a monster out there. It didn't matter if it was living in that abandoned castle shrouded in mist at the jagged peeks of the imposing mountains, or just lurking in the seediest shadows of the woods. She had seen a corpse drained of blood before — even had a glimpse of the two puncture wounds, raw and red at the base of the dead's neck. She'd felt the trepidation and the fear whenever a month drew to a close and another began. She had huddled with her older brother, with wreathes of garlic strung at the doors and window sills, _praying _to whoever was listening to _spare _them another time. For everyone knew that when the creature would come to claim you, it would. And no amount of fighting or torrents of blessed water would fight it off enough for you to take a chance at survival.

Kallen _hated _Augsburg. If she had the resources and the finances, she would acquire herself a horse and _leave_.

Living in a town wrought with the threat of death every nightfall was bad enough, and Kallen considered herself a regular resident just like the others. She could only imagine how much more difficult life was for the green-haired girl who had whispers and threats following her all the days of her life.

If Cera had the chance, would she leave this town too?

vVvVv

Discreet predatory eyes watched from the shadow of the woods as night fell over the agitated town. As evening approached, the hustle and the bustle of the daytime quietly moved on to the faint sound of the clanking of cups of ale, leaving most of the narrow streets abandoned, and the rest of the houses lit from within with meager substitutes for daylight.

And in a small bricked house with thatched straws for a roof was the lovely soul he longed to see. Over the years, it hadn't been difficult to find out where she stayed. The ignorant and jumpy residents marked her for death from the moment she entered womanhood. Her splintering front door was vandalized with all manner of runes to ward off malevolent spirits — not that the silly symbols helped.

But it was enough to show that she wasn't welcome. They would have thrown her into the woods long ago if they weren't so afraid of being cursed…

They called her a witch. The poor unfortunate soul.

But they were wrong. How poorly had they judged her — his light, his one source of beauty in a dull and gray existence. His bride-to-be. Someday.

Would she even acknowledge him though? Would she ever see him someday as more than a dead man trying to be alive?

No matter… He would just have to woo her.

Unconventional his methods would be, but they would be better than nothing…

After all, souls like hers rarely ever emerged in a town as dull and dreary as this. She was one of a kind — a treasure.

A small taste of the blissful afterlife he'd been denied from entering centuries ago…

vVvVv

"Here you are, Lucis. I managed to catch quite a bit in the stream this afternoon."

Tucking locks of stray green hair behind her ears, she watched her precious pet delicately sniff the bits of small fish she had placed in his crudely carved wooden plate. Lucis was such a picky eater, and she just knew that after having his full meal tonight, the feline would venture out into the darkness again — off to find another tabby to charm; such a casanova cat.

Lucis mewled in appreciation and began nibbling on the food. She merely smiled — happy that he was content with her offering. Stroking the shiny ebony fur gently, she left him to his own devices to secure the locks in the doors and windows for the night.

Such was her nightly routine. Tend to the fire in her humble hearth by dropping in a few more dry sticks, feed her posh and picky feline, securing the feeble locks on the doors and windows, and tidying her tiny house a bit before retiring unto her bed of dry straw barely covered with clean sheets.

She was busy cleaning Lucis' leftovers, the cat having squeezed through the narrow space between her dirt floor and the only door. So preoccupied with her task that she barely noticed the familiar telltale signs from the night before heralding the arrival of an ominous presence inside her own home.

Cera turned to put her pet's food bowl away but was startled at a pair of strikingly familiar violet eyes staring at her through the shadows of her small common room. Exclaiming in surprise, her feet gained minds of their own as she hastily stepped back and felt for something — _anything _of use to fight back even if it was feeble. He had saved her last night, but self-preservation was stronger than any form of emotion her rattled mind could possibly conjure.

It was an instinct to live — to fight or flee from whatever threatened the continuation of her existence.

Her fingers closed around a rusted knife she kept by one of the wooden wall shelves. A part of her wondered where this courage had originated from when it had fled her last night when she had been chased down a dark alley. Nevertheless, she stared the bare silhouette of the shadow in her home down despite the slight tremor in her unsure hold. She was brandishing the knife like it was a wooden spoon. That alone was enough to make people laugh in mockery.

"It— It's you, isn't it?" No answer. "From last night."

It was as if the shadows in her home had come alive. It could have been the trick of the firelight playing off of the stone walls, but she could have sworn she saw one of them by her bed writhe as the motionless phantom before her slowly materialized into a familiar face. Temperatures dropped several degrees lower, and each hair in her body stood on end as she lay witness to one of the most fearsome sights in her whole life.

Her savior just the night before… And the blood thirsty monster terrorizing the whole of the town. A handsomely deceptive face meant to lure victims into an inescapable death trap. And now he had come for her. The gratitude she had had last night had died on her lips as she stared into those startlingly mesmerizing eyes.

"Do you truly believe that a knife could hurt me?"

He spoke quietly — his voice silky and dripping with sweet honey; almost like a lover's caress. It was quite the contradiction to the words he'd just uttered. Still, he hadn't moved from his spot, stance unnervingly still, eyes never leaving her own. There was something in those eyes that slowly stripped the fear from her vulnerable mind, leaving only an insatiable bout of curiosity and intrigue for the silent and predatory creature who had invaded the tranquility of her personal sanctuary.

Slowly, slowly, she lowered her arm — lax fingers dropping the only semblance of protection she had. The knife clattered to the floor, shattering the pregnant silence that stewed between the demon and his angel.

"If you are going to kill me, all I ask is that you make it quick."

Sadness shadowed those pretty irises, and he broke their trance and stepped forward the tiniest bit. She took her own step back, the bottoms of her feet grazing the hilt of the knife that she'd dropped when she'd been petrified.

"I do not mean to cause you harm, Cera." He spoke, his tone almost pleading. "Only come to me."

She scrutinized him carefully as he gracefully held out a hand towards her. His fingers were long and spidery, his skin pallid and almost translucent. He was asking her to come to him and that he meant her no harm. How unbelievably ironic… But _why_?

"And what?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Become my bride."


	4. 3: A Sliver of Salvation

**A/N: First off, I want to thank these people who left their thoughts in the last chapter: Euryphaessa Gray, all of my Guest reviewers, Celline The Sleeping Beauty, duckystory, netherdragon1, arga101, Idyllicdream, Anime-Manga-Music-Lover, & Nana.**

**I apologize for the extremely long wait. The last update was published months ago. ****But now that **_**One Day at a Time **_**is finished, this baby is going to take its place as my priority. :D Again, I'm really sorry for the long wait. But now that this is the center of my Code Geass fanfic attention, you can expect more frequent updates.**

**Happy reading. :) 'Til next chapter…**

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**Chapter 3: A Sliver of Salvation**

It had been a nightmare… That's what it was. An absolute nightmare that revolved around live shadows sulking in the corners of her house at night, watching her with glowing red eyes. A part of her thought that perhaps it was her punishment. It was the consequence of denying the supernatural being its right to own her soul, especially after it had shown itself capable of taking her completely — with or without a choice.

So, for the nights that followed after she said 'no' to the offer of matrimony to the creature she barely knew, her dreams were plagued with hellish imagery.

Ear-shattering screams of the damned; the carnage a violent war could leave behind; blood and pus pouring from torn limbs and lacerated flesh; the reek of decaying corpses. Fire and smoke. So much smoke, it blackened a bleeding sky. And in the midst of it all, the color red — blazing starkly against a deceptively handsome face.

It was petrifying. It was maddening.

And there was only so much of it she could take…

With desperation spurring her on, she eventually approached the authorities of the town with her plight. Something (or _someone_) was watching her at night. And it wasn't just the nightmares that clued her in. It was in the way the flame atop the little stump of wax beside her bed would flicker — threatening to plunge her shadowy house into complete darkness. It was in the chill that enveloped the room. It was in the way Lucis hissed at the writhing silhouette on the wall.

The more she thought about it, the more she figured that it was depressing that she had let it go on for this long. She thought she could handle it. But the rusted knife she kept within hand's reach did little for comfort now that she knew _exactly _what she was dealing with. Whether it was waking or slumbering, her nightly routine now involved her hoping to the heavens that she would survive.

If the lucidly hellish nightmares failed to terrorize her to death in sleep, then the presence of the ghoul at night certainly could.

Comfort and relief only ever came whenever the first few rays of the morning sun would peek through her slightly barred window. The shadows would be gone by then, dissipating with the arrival of the day.

But what use did she have for the comfort of the sun when she knew her nightly plight would resume as soon as darkness slipped over the town?

These past seven days had been a vicious cycle of waking up each morning, (pretending to be all right amid the occasional judgmental stare), only to dread the inevitable coming of the night and what it brought to her and her sanity.

She'd had _enough_…

But even _she _couldn't have predicted that her only source of hope would slip through her fingers once she opened her mouth and told the Sheriff and his men about her problems.

To be fair, she shouldn't have expected anything more or less. Because ever since grandmother had passed away over two years ago, the hostility only tripled. Blamed for her only kin's death, and marked as a witch, they only let her live (they said) because they were afraid she would threaten their existence should harm come to her. But that fear of her was no more, it seemed, as they marched her into a cell to await a public trial.

Her supposed crime?

The practice of witchcraft and copulation with a monster they had yet to find and execute.

vVvVv

It was ridiculous! Simply and _utterly _preposterous.

Kallen had never been one to involve herself with the public proceedings for criminals before they were sentenced to punishment. But when word had spread of the so-called witch's public trial all throughout Augsburg, she'd immediately strengthened her resolve to see the strange yet poor girl this superstitious town had marked for death.

Cera was _harmless_. Yes, she had strange hair color, and she was withdrawn from the rest. But she never did anything to cause anybody harm! The girl had lived with her grandmother in the town for as long as Kallen had been living in it too.

She wasn't a witch! She was just a girl!

But her seething could do her little to no favors. Because if people in Augsburg hated you. They truly did. And pile that resentment with a nasty rumor that you're a witch who makes contracts with the denizens of the underworld, and you might as well be marked for death all the days of your life.

Kallen wondered though, how it had come to this. What had been the breaking point? What spurred the Sheriff and his seedy group of men into action to restrain her and put her on public trial?

Because as far as she had seen, Cera always kept a low profile. She never struck back when one of the more hostile townspeople would make passive-aggressive remarks. She never uttered complaints despite the fact that children and adults alike were vandalizing her home closest to the mouth of the woods because they believed she was evil. The cheery girl Cera had been had died alongside her grandmother when the wizened woman had passed away. From the recesses of her memory, Kallen could still vaguely recall seeing a green-haired girl prancing with a basket of flowers while an old woman followed studiously behind more than four years ago. And with the faint recollection, she idly wondered to herself why she never tried befriending the strange girl before.

A crowd had gathered at the foot of the flimsy dais, staring up the Sheriff and his men who had her restrained. She was struggling against their bonds, and for the first time, Kallen witnessed emotions flashing swiftly across Cera's pretty face. There was anger there, sadness, hopelessness. And frustration, above all.

She could barely hear the Sheriff and his booming voice in the midst of the crowd, screaming all sorts of profanities and accusations. Various versions of, "Burn her!" and "Execute her!" traveled through the crowd, and it made Kallen sick. True, she didn't know Cera personally. But she wanted to. She wanted to give the accused girl the benefit of the doubt, because she didn't even have that from these people.

"Cera, you stand accused of witchcraft."

The Sheriff began, reading a list from a piece of parchment, ignoring the green-haired woman's protests as two men dragged her over to a barrel filled with water. Kallen could barely make out their sneers, but she knew it was there as she looked on, mortified, as they grabbed fistfuls of Cera's hair and forced her head into submerging beneath the murky water. They pulled her back roughly, her chest heaving, and her entire head soaked as she gasped for fresh air.

"You came to us three days before and told us the monster comes for you at night."

"I needed your hel— Agh!"

The sentence was cut-off with a sharp grunt of pain after one of the men jabbed a fist into her side. Keeled over, Cera stared up at the town's Sheriff defiantly. It was all the encouragement Kallen needed, and she began to push through the crowd, jostling the tight bodies aside, struggling to reach the foot of the dais and find a way to free Cera. She'd think about how to get the girl out of this town for good, later. For now, avoiding execution was her priority.

"You have been fornicating with the monster. And now you are with child! Do you deny it?"

"Yes! My life is threatened, and—"

"Threatened!" The Sheriff laughed, and Cera glowered. Chuckles rippled through the crowd of townspeople. As if anything about this was funny. "Perhaps _you _are the reason it comes to feast on us after a full moon's turn."

"No, I—!"

"What are we to do with this monster's mistress?!"

The shouts and the demands for execution grew louder. There was talk of burning her at the stake, just as what's deserving of a witch. Some picked up stones and other hard objects, ready to hurl. Others screamed for beheading her right then and now. And in the middle of it all, Kallen's cries for Cera's name were drowned out, overcome with the clamor for the final sentence.

She had every intention to climb up the dais, makeshift yet flimsy weapon in hand, and just knock some of the men out cold. Cera was coughing and gasping, after having her head submerged in water for the fourth time in a what was only a couple of minutes.

"The witch has spoken her truth when she came to us!" The Sheriff announced with conviction, pointing his hunting knife in the direction of a still struggling Cera. "_You _are the reason why we face death each nightfall."

The monster had been terrorizing their town for _years_. According to the old people, it had been doing so even _before _Cera was born or brought into Augsburg or whatever. But even when Kallen tried to scream that fact out, it was still useless when she held no authority over these people, and when none were willing to listen.

"Order! Order! Let us through!"

Like a coordinated wave, the crowd seamlessly parted, revealing the town's mayor joined by two other strangers that earned the renewed suspicion of every person gathered around the dais. The men were tall, and they looked young. A brunet and a blond, sauntering through the mass of judgmental stares; oblivious by choice to the scathing glower the Sheriff was sending their way.

Kallen couldn't take her eyes off of them both. The blond stopped at the foot of the dais, and the brunet approached the Sheriff, sneering at them. Casting a glance at the bewildered woman accused of a crime she never committed, he sighed tiredly before speaking in a loud voice.

"Let the girl go."

"Or what?"

"Or you answer to Suzaku Kururugi."


	5. 4: The Hands of the Clock

**A/N: Writer's block's a bitch! Thank the heavens, because it goes away eventually :)**

**Thank you to Euryphaessa Gray, Montero, my Guest reviewer, Akira Hayama, netherdragon1, and Kennaka0813 for leaving your thoughts, and your speculations, and your questions. I'll have to address a couple of those at the end of this chapter :)**

**Thank you to everybody for following, and faving, and for silently reading too. They add to the ever growing motivation to continue. I'm not on a roll yet, but hopefully I'll pick up my own writing pace again soon.**

**I have so much to say. But I'll leave that to the end of the chapter. Your choice if you want to read the long A/N at the end.**

**Happy reading :)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Hands of the Clock**

"If anyone in this crowd can give me solid proof of the crimes she has committed, I would gladly hand her over to be burned at the stake."

There was a stillness in the air despite the tension humming prominently above each individual's head. To her, it seemed like the entire crowd had held its breath for fractions during that one specific moment. As one, they gawked at the confident man who had climbed the dais and stood next to a soaked and bedraggled Cera. That steely gaze flitted from one person to the next, a silent challenge to come forward and provide validation for these absurd claims.

"_You know a witch_ when you _see _one!"

The Sheriff was insistent as he stomped towards the girl — wet wood creaking and puddles of water sloshing, only to have his path blocked. Halting in his steps, he stared up into a wall of muscle to find steely blue eyes glaring down at him, effectively hiding Cera and Suzaku from clear view.

"Out of my wa—"

The mayor had stepped in on time, restraining the zealous Sheriff with a slow shake of his head and a firm hand on his arm. The crowd began to mutter again, and ripples of disjointed whispers filtered through Kallen's ears. But she ignored them all in favor of paying attention to the two men who had taken charge of the would-have-been impromptu witch trial. Suzaku's gaze lingered on Cera as he opened his mouth to speak, addressing a crowd of unruly men and women gripped by unsettling fear.

"When a woman dabbles in witchcraft, she cannot hide it. A rot sets in. And you can see it in her skin, in her teeth. You have merely arrested an innocent girl who is being harassed by an unseen supernatural force."

"She is innocent. Therefore she is to be released." The blond man declared in support of Suzaku's statement. "Anyone who disagrees will answer to me or Suzaku."

"And just _who _are _you_?!"

A chorus of agreement rippled through the distressed crowd after one brave man deigned to speak up. Augsburg didn't take too kindly to strangers. After being plunged into centuries of being terrorized by a malevolent creature, no one could blame the townspeople really. The superstitions had been faithfully passed down through several generations. And each newcomer into the humble town was always greeted with hostility and suspicion, until they were proven innocent.

"Gino Weinberg and Suzaku Kururugi." Town Mayor Jeremiah Gottwald stepped forward, bearing answers that jittery townsmen needed to desperately hear. "Hunters whom we've contracted to slay this unseen monster."

_Hunters_… If she were to voice her own thoughts, they would have to forgive her for being skeptical. She could remember a good many hunters who had come and gone in her years of being alive. Many of them that had tried but failed miserably. They either went missing, or found dead with missing body parts and puncture holes in the neck. Town Mayor Jeremiah Gottwald was different though… And this was yet another proof of that.

"We?!" The Sheriff shrieked, eyes wild with outrage.

"Return to your own businesses! These men have jobs to do."

The Mayor grumbled, somewhat unhappily as he continued to wave people away from the dais. The Sheriff with his cronies left begrudgingly, but not before Kallen saw him glower menacingly towards the two strangers, the mayor, and the harassed young woman in question.

Staying put, people jostled her around, but for some unknown reason, she couldn't find it in her to just approach the girl and her saviors. She knew Cera by face and by name, but never actually spoke to her beyond the casual greeting whenever she bumped into the strange girl in the streets. Coming to her know with words of comfort and sympathy was just as bad. She was still a stranger.

So hesitantly, Kallen turned her back on the platform that she had been ready to risk her life jumping on just minutes before. If the two men hadn't arrived, perhaps it would have been different. Perhaps she could have saved Cera from cruel fate or died along with her in just trying. But the difference was that these men had appeared and had come to the girl's rescue.

It was better to leave Cera in their care for now, and she could return and try to strike up friendly introductions later.

The poor girl had gone through enough…

vVvVv

Her name was Cera… A reserved yet insightful young woman, if someone asked him to describe her. But strange and astounding, just like the rest of Augsburg.

At that thought, Suzaku couldn't help but laugh quietly to himself as he stared into the amber liquid swirling around his cup slowly with each movement. It was laughable to consider a terrorized town strange, knowing his line of "duty." As far as strange went, it wasn't far-fetched to say he'd seen most of it. Wherever and whenever, there were no shortage of hellish creatures running amok in this twisted and filthy world.

After their unpleasant introduction to the town's hostile people, their morning had consisted largely of reviewing incident reports documented over the last decade in the mayor's rustic office. Gottwald had kindly suggested they mingle with the locals a bit to dull the hostility and suspicion spreading around town like the plague. Of course, he and Gino understood.

He'd had his fair share of visiting cities and towns who were aware of being terrorized by supernatural forces, and fear and alienation had always been the norm whenever a stranger would suddenly appear in town. They hadn't been quite as surprised when Augsburg had fallen under the same category. Centuries of fearing for their safety every night and especially during a moon's turn ought to have taken a horrible toll. Generation upon generation had bowed petrified to an unseen force, wreaking havoc and picking off people one by one to satiate a need from.

The killings had an erratic pattern. But the methods were more or less the same. At least, they knew it involved the loss of blood.

Gino had already theorized that the creature was a variation of a lycanthrope — a kind they'd both faced on separate missions before. But _he _wasn't so sure. They'd been given permission to access the town's archives, and they planned to do so the following day.

Tonight, would be delegated wholly to monitoring nightly activities and keeping a close eye on Cera…

So deep in thought was he that he started slightly when a familiar hand clapped his shoulder a little too cheerily.

Gino's smile was nigh blinding in the dim tavern and its loud patrons. Nevertheless, the blond hunter took the bench across Suzaku and helped himself to a pitcher of ale that the server had kindly brought as requested — even if she _did _appear jittery after he thanked her kindly anyway.

"It's difficult to find a good place to sleep in here for however long this will take, but I found a decent inn." Gino commented nonchalantly, finishing the rest of his drink in one swig before reaching for the pitcher to pour himself another.

"These people are desperate."

It was as if Suzaku didn't hear him at all, prompting Gino to regard his partner in this mission curiously.

"Their mayor is risking plenty of banknotes and gold on something that may or may or not be duly accomplished. We're the first pair of hunters they contracted after two decades, and—"

"That just means they're desperate. Whatever this thing is, it's intimidating enough to make the last person in-charge quit on ever finding hope." Gino's grin was dastardly as he leaned back on the bench, completely oblivious to the admiring stares a few of the serving girls were directing his way. "Gottwald's got a pair on him for trying again, _and _for hiring the _two of us_. The Black Knight's contracts don't come cheap."

Suzaku sighed deeply. His friend _always _spoke so highly of the group they were affiliated to, like it was a large organization run by men sitting on council chairs commanding a battalion of 'killers,' housed within a massive fortress. When in truth, the so-called 'council' was only being run by two people — a man and a woman. And their so-called 'battalion' were just eight skilled Hunters, convening in a medium-sized room in their founders' home.

The Black Knights earned its name and reputation during the continent's 'Witch Plague.' _That_ was a _very _busy year and a couple of months, with contracts coming in through the front doors daily. People were afraid of witches then that their paranoia easily urged them to persecute even the innocent. _They_, as Hunters, had their work cut out for them, and that was to stamp out the men and women _actually _engaging in the dark arts. A successful campaign thus earned their little group the prestige and the high prices for services that came with it.

"Excuse me."

The two men turned their heads at the same time to find a woman with red hair and blue eyes standing at the foot of their meager table. She wasn't shy by any means, but her hesitance showed in the worry evident in her blue eyes, and the way the corners of her lips turned down into a small grimace.

"Sir Weinberg and Kururugi, right?" Was her question just as the men nodded once in unison. "Can I talk to you? It's about that girl you rescued earlier today… Cera."

vVvVv

There was no moon tonight — only billows of thick clouds hiding the shimmering stars from immediate sight. It would have been sight fit for human admiration had it been visible. But even such simple joys had disappeared the moment _he _came into being.

It was centuries ago, but he could still clearly picture the terror he'd wrought into the unsuspecting town

He had had a thirst to quench, and locked doors or barred windows were mere nuances. They hadn't stopped him from creeping into their homes to take the very essence of life that he had _lusted _after.

And now centuries later, it was still the same. The only difference was that time had dulled his curiosity. Little incidents sparked his interest now and then. He'd found great amusement when the first brave villagers attempted to storm his safe haven in open rebellion. Even an ounce of mercy was not spared for the men whoso much as _dared _to cross the forest and its malevolent creatures. Several more attempts followed in the first few years. But as evidenced by their swift deaths and his continued existence, the want for pride and glory was futile.

So many attempts for centuries. And he could still count the ones who had come honestly close on several occasions with his hands — and with fingers still there to spare.

But perhaps _this _time would be different…

It had been _years _since he last paid special attention to the societal workings of mortals. The last few had been largely fixated on _her_ — on his light, on his future bride. She had _refused _him the night he asked and defiantly turned her back on him — as if he were no more than a figment of her harmless imagination. But he was _real_. So real that he sought to prove his existence and the extent of his power to her. If only she could believe in him and trust that he wouldn't harm her.

Perhaps it had been cruel of him to influence the dreams each time she slumbered, but there hadn't been another way to communicate. He wanted her to know what he was. If she was to be his bride one day, she _had _to understand the complexity of his ways and his methods.

His actions only caused her trouble though. They had been all set to _burn her alive_ if those two hadn't stepped in. Not that he needed them nor cared for their interruption.

But perhaps he should have known that Fate would always find a way to surprise her audience — even the dead ones.

For the arrival of these two…_contenders _were indeed unexpected. And he himself did not know how to feel about it.

Was he to consider this a gift? Or perhaps twas a mockery towards the last greatest desire he had left?

He never prayed — never so much as folded his hands and bowed his head in supplication to a higher power. Dependence on divine deities were for human beings with souls and a set number of days. _He _had lost those privileges the moment he was birthed into this other existence. So of course, he didn't have the right to voice pleas or make wishes. If divine beings _did _exist, he was sure they would ignore him anyway.

For who would so much as turn a living ear to the cries and whispers of a broken and damned creature?

But all the same… The arrival of these puzzle pieces were a most welcome affair — the answer to a longing buried underneath layers and layers of dashed hopes and bleak days.

Because for once in hundreds of years of waiting, the clock was finally ticking again… And there was simply not a moment to waste.

* * *

**A/N: Where do I even start?**

**I'm sure there are some people wondering if I was going to involve Geass in any of this. And all I can say is that I'm not a hundred percent sure yet. I may or may not include canon lore into the elements of this AU; because it's a growing plot. Yes, I have everything planned out, but there are blanks to fill that are coming as I write more chapters in the future.**

**And to, netherdragon1 who asked if Mao was going to be involved in this, I would say that he's already appeared in the background. xD He's not the Sheriff, but he's going to have the spotlight soon as events unfold. As for Suzaku x CC… Maybe there'll be moments. But you have to squint real hard probably. Eh, we'll see. As I mentioned, I got blanks to fill still.**

**As for Suzaku being a vampire hunter or a pawn to Lelouch, you'll probably understand more as the story continues. He's the Hunter. For now. xD**

**And I know that there are some who want the good old witchy CC we know from the canon universe. But to fit the role that she plays in this Vampire AU, I decided on CC's character as being a combination of her amnesiac self and the strong-willed Code User we all know and love 3 :)**

**That's…pretty much all I have to say for now. I'm sorry if this came off as too long. But then again, you're already reading this, so my apology kind of falls into a moot point. So, I want to thank you again for reading :)**


	6. 5: A Deal with Death

**A/N: It's been so long, and I never thought I'd return to this. To be honest, I was toying with the idea of abandoning it. I was stuck with the first-half of this chapter, with no idea where to go. (Talk about poor planning on my part).**

**So what made me pick this up again?**

**Well, I guess you can thank Bram Stoker and his literary genius for lighting my inspiration for this fic anew. I just finished rereading **_**Dracula **_**and oh boy… I remembered I had this.**

**There will be some parts of this chapter that will probably not make sense right now, but that's only because the explanations will happen further down the road.**

**This AN's getting pretty long, but I want to thank Kennaka0813, netherdragon1, Alcantis, and woo tanin for leaving kind reviews on the chapter I put out **_**last year**_**. (I'm really sorry TT_TT) Thank you, everyone, for following and putting this in your favorites.**

**~Until next time.**

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**Chapter 5: A Deal With Death**

He hated the Mayor. Detested the fool and his overbearing ways. Gottwald maybe beloved by these townspeople, but the smarmy bastard lacked the backbone that made the Augsburg's Sheriff undisputed. What had the man been thinking?

To contract the Black Knights… If _hundreds _of years wasn't enough to reveal the monster lurking in their town's midst, then what made Gottwald think that a pair of _foreign _hunters could succeed? A few of their ancestors came close before. _Hell_, his own great grandfather had lived to divulge some of the mysteries that surrounded this predator — however ambiguous the recounting had been.

And there was the more recent one…

A shaking leaf of a youth hurriedly confessed to attempting to sexually harass the witch, only to be stopped by what he believed to be their resident monster.

Human in appearance with eyes the color of flaming coals. Deathly white skin that had the chill of the departed. And…sharpened teeth (or was it canines) that gleamed dangerously underneath the starlight.

Such strange and outlandish claims. Almost as if it was a figment of a man's wild imagination after he'd snorted more than his fair share of opium.

But it was a testimony from a first account, nevertheless.

It was vital information that those Black Knights would never uncover. Over his dead body, that is.

With this surefire victory in mind, Sheriff Calares haughtily threw an object atop his wooden table, startling the three other "guests" gathered in his humble wooden lodge. Hounds slobbered over the rawhide strewn across the stone floors as their masters greedily took handfuls of silver that spilled from the open pouch. One of them bit at the metal to test the currency's ingenuity.

"Seventy silver pieces. The rest when you've found this beast and brought its head to me." Calares sneered maliciously.

"Sounds good." Satisfied, one of the men nodded once. Luciano Bradley, was it? "We search for a trail in the morning."

"Do you want the other forty pieces or not?"

Wary and gaunt faces ranged from worry to one's that held solid resolve.

"This matter needs a closer look. It will take more than running into the woods to catch this thing, if it's evaded us and our people for centuries." The severe-looking man, Bismarck Waldstein tried to reason despite the ever-souring expression on the infamous Sheriff's face.

"If you two are too afraid to hunt it down, then _I _will." Mao interjected before Calares could butt in again. The exclamation earned him an approving glance from the Sheriff.

_This _was his type of man for the job. Ambitious, fearless, and dauntless. But all that didn't really matter to him, so long as these three returned carrying a beast's head or other.

Some form of evidence they could use and raise above the Mayor's head, just to prove that they didn't need the Black Knights. And after this monster was dealt with, perhaps they'd establish a case to prove that stupid girl's involvement in witchcraft. Taking care of that should put their town more at ease.

In the end, Mao won the debacle, and the other young men followed him out into the night, taking their two hunting hounds with them.

Satisfied with himself, the Sheriff blew out all the candles, save for one and made to retire to his bed. He had a long day the following morning, _especially _after his men found trails. Or better yet, brought him the bounty he so desired.

vVvVv

The forest that surrounded Augsburg was a living, breathing thing. And if you were to believe all the stories, some of the townsfolk claimed that the trees could come alive. That if these gnarly and twisted branches somehow sensed a threat, they would unfurl and snag a man where he stood — to drag him into the depths of the forest bed, never to be seen or heard of again.

Everytime Luciano heard it, he'd laugh…

The townspeople were a suspicious bunch, but those claims could be easily debunked if only some of them actually had the _balls _to venture through this forest at night. They'd see that it was completely harmless, save for the packs of wolves and other wild animals that roamed at night in search of food. But that was to be expected…

"We were a fool to come here." Bismarck's harsh voice interrupted Luciano's carefree thoughts. "We should have insisted on investigating at the crack of dawn."

From the other side of the fire, Mao eyed the older man distastefully. Bismarck's age would be his downfall one day. The only reason why he was working with him (with _any_ of them) at this very moment was because he knew how _foolish _it was to attempt destroying an unknown creature. Supernatural hunting experience, they had none. But they were all skilled in combat in varying degrees.

That _had _to count for something.

"And what?" Mao scoffed, untying the wine skin attached to his belt. "Return to Calares empty-handed with the second-half of our pay decreased by ten?"

Bismarck watched the silver-haired man take long and deep swigs from the alcohol they'd brought along to keep them warm at night, just in case. "There are things more important than money, Mao. Your life, in particular."

With a dismissive wave characteristic of a young man with the lad's temperament, both Mao and Luciano shared chuckles before ignoring their other companion's concerns. Nonchalantly, Luciano just reached for another short log to throw into their fire. A fire that grew ever bigger the longer they sat out here and rested for a while before moving on again. Joining the crackling of the flames, he could still hear the sound of the dogs chomping on the bone marrows behind him — his reassurance that nothing could get past them like this.

"We need to put out this fire soon if we want a fruitful search." Bismarck commented, already poking at the burning sticks gingerly. "We've kept it going long enough. It's dangerous to leave it burning for as long as we have."

"If we freeze to death in this chilly weather, we'll have none to blame but ourselves." Luciano deadpanned, still ignoring the way Bismarck glowered at him.

Snickering at how the old man acted like an anxious old lady, Mao assumed a laid back posture and crooned. "You are _so_ paranoid, Mr. Waldstein. There's—"

As he chastised the older man for being so uptight, he made to drop another bone for the dogs, only to find the previous spot they'd occupied empty. The unusual silence had been because of the hound's sudden disappearance. And before Luciano or Mao could think of what to make of all of it, they caught Bismarck scrambling to his feet — instantly alert with weapons in his hands, blades and a pistol trained at what they could only assume was a youthful traveler.

Albeit a well-off traveler… Because that cloak couldn't have been cheap.

The flames crackled and the sticks and leaves continued to burn. The smoke still rose to the heavens. But their little campsite had gone oddly quiet. Just the sound of their own breathing and the blood rushing in their ears. It almost seemed as if the wind had ceased to blow. Where the rustling of leaves should have been, there was only silence.

An eerie silence that thickened the atmosphere until Mao _swore _he could feel it pressing through the layers of coats and leather that he wore for protection. His other two companions stood stock still, feigning a relaxed stance with their weapons held at the ready — not that it fazed their nightly visitor one bit, though.

The hounds sat docilely at stranger's feet, tongues lolling out as they gauged their former masters. With escalating trepidation that he _desperately _tried to hide, Mao couldn't stop himself from noting the way this stranger went about stroking each dog's ear.

"You have handsome hounds, my lords…"

The voice matched the face. Smooth, unfazed, and confident. When he didn't hear a response, the boy fixed those unnerving violet eyes on them and smiled. A smile so disarmingly charming that he could _swear _many a lady would have fallen for it. The arrogant cad.

The boy had a comely face too — for a young man. Twas a face that belonged to an aristocrat of sorts. Perhaps even a Prince from a foreign kingdom.

"Where is your traveling party?" Bismarck spoke up casually and cautiously, doing his best not to flinch underneath the weight of that penetrating gaze.

"I seem to have found one, I suppose."

Was that a joke? Because if it was, it wasn't very funny…

Normally, he'd be tempted to pummel _anyone _who _looked _at them so condescendingly, but there was something _off _about this boy. And it wasn't just the dark cloak with the royal purple trim and the lavish waistcoat. There was something enthralling about his very presence, and the way the forest seemed to still at his sudden appearance; about the way he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, assessing them. _Watching _them.

Like a predator studying their prey…

The thought crossed his mind just as he saw his companion's backs stiffen.

"Why have you come here? To the darkness of the forest."

He knew his companions threw glances at each other, and he _refused _to meet their gazes. Instead, choosing to keep his attention trained on the boy — who he was seriously suspicious of, now — who waited for their answer patiently with an unnatural stillness that couldn't _possibly _be human. The dogs sitting at the boy's feet were as docile as he'd ever seen them. They too stared at the three of them with familiar eyes that once communicated loyalty.

"We could ask you the same question." Luciano snarled, his fists tightening around the sword he held at his side.

"I live here."

At the utterance of those words, Mao tried resisting the shiver that traveled down his spine. This was _far _from normal now, and the longer they stayed like this — pretending as if there was an invisible line drawn in the dirt between their party and the stranger, the more he sensed the wrongness lingering in the air. Something sinister was astir, and he stood with bated breath and watched what looked like living darkness gather around the youth.

The shadows writhed and twisted, like some grotesque dance performance. In spite of it all, the hounds stayed quiet and obedient.

"And since I do not recall ever permitting you to enter, you _are _trespassers, aren't you?"

The unchecked _arrogance _in that voice made his temper flare up. "You don't even have a—"

_Human in appearance with eyes the color of flaming coals…_

That was one of the descriptions Calares had given them. And somewhere to his right, Mao heard Luciano Bradley swear foully under his breath and Bismarck murmur a rushed prayer to all that was good and divine in this wretched world. As for him, he'd lost his own voice from the moment he witnessed those violet eyes shift into an ominous red. Full yet pale lips curled back ever so slightly as the malevolent creature gave them a horrifying smile. It wasn't so much a mocking smile as it was a way to show the youth's unnaturally elongated and sharpened canines.

"_What are you?_"

"Death…"

Two black and brown blurs raced past their campfire as the world erupted into sheer and undiluted chaos that went by _too _fast for Mao to completely understand. His companions were screaming, the dogs were barking and snarling, several bullets left the barrel and missed their mark. Bones splintering. Flesh tearing. Agonized wails and shrieks of torment traveled through the dark forest before they were silenced as abruptly as they had begun.

Warm breath and vicious snarling directly above him as stones and all manner of forest debris dug mercilessly through his clothes. Fingers closed around strong furry shoulders as he writhed and did his best to wrest himself free of the slobbering hound snarling and snapping its teeth at him.

The night sky dotted with the odd spattering of stars winked at him in mockery as he shouted and screamed until his throat was hoarse. Until he was forced to put a knife through the heart of his beloved pet.

Shaky hands pushed the bleeding carcass off, just in time to hear a pitiful whimper before one of the hounds were silenced forever. With his own breathing too loud for his ears, Mao barely took note of the unnatural silence that reigned once more, of the stench of carrion filling the air. Most of the ground at his bare hands were wet. And he knew without seeing that the forest floor was now drenched in his companions' blood. The fire was gone now too, the only proof of its existence — dying embers that rode on the wings of a quiet wind.

"Bring her to me…"

Startled, the once proud young man scrambled to his knees and curled up by the log, trying to rein in the shivering that wracked his body and made his teeth chatter. How could such a timbered voice be so _threatening_?

"W-What are y-you ta-talking ab—"

"You accuse her of abominable acts and unjustly persecute her. _Bring her to me_. You have until twilight on the day after tomorrow."

Weary, terrified, and sufficiently traumatized… But despite it all, he still managed to croak out the question that mattered the most.

"What happens…" He wheezed. "—if I don't?"

"Then you and Augsburg shall see Hell…"

vVvVv

"How long has she been accused of this?"

Gino Weinberg nodded in agreement solemnly after his partner voiced his inquiry. The redhead, Kallen — she was called, was nothing short of helpful. There was only so much that you could learn from a tome or a carefully preserved manuscript. The best and most integral information always came from the residents themselves. These poor citizens suffering under an unnamed and unidentified threat.

Suzaku could see why they would target poor Cera. Physically speaking, she didn't fit into their town's picture at all. But someone's physical appearance wasn't enough grounds to accuse them of heinous crimes they probably didn't even commit.

"Ever since her grandmother passed away… So, for most of her life, I suppose."

"We need to speak with her. Convince her to help us in any way she can." Gino declared, finishing his cup of ale.

"What makes you think she knows anything?" The young woman pinned the both of them with skeptical looks.

"The claims she filed at the Sheriff's cabin." Suzaku muttered as he gave voice to Gino's thoughts and his own, careful to maintain the appearance of being casual while he slowly followed the staggering steps of a disheveled silver-haired man who'd just entered. "Calares and the others refused to believe her. But what if she was telling the truth?"

"Can you take us to where she lives?"

"I—"

The sound of Kallen's voice instantly disappeared underneath the roar of the surrounding crowd and the banging of cutlery on worn wooden tables. For in the time it had taken for Suzaku to rise to his feet and _attempt_ to intercept the intruder, the disheveled and manic stranger had already blurted out his next words.

Words that condemned one soul; subjecting this would-be sacrifice to the whims of the demon hiding among them.

"_Kill the witch!"_


End file.
